


Who Are You?

by Victorious56



Category: RWBY
Genre: Childhood, Coming Out, First Meetings, Growing Up, M/M, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorious56/pseuds/Victorious56
Summary: Dreams are always open to interpretation, and Clover has no idea what his means. The answer, when it eventually comes, will change his life.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this story was triggered by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_pIc6W9sTo).
> 
> It's ended up being more or less Clover's life story, told in several stages. Which was something I wasn't expecting when I started thinking about it 😀

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why does Clover keep having the same dream?  
> And why is his friend so keen to kiss him?

With a sigh, Rosemary Ebi forced herself to open her eyes. In the dim glow from the nightlight on the landing, she saw her son standing by her bed.

"Mummy, I had the dream again." Clover was knuckling his eyes with one hand, the other shaking her shoulder.

Rosemary propped herself up on one elbow, raising a hand to her son's face.

"It's okay, Clovey, you're awake now."

She sat up in the bed, taking his hands in hers. He looked at her, his lower lip trembling. He was five years old, but sometimes seemed much younger.

"Can I come into your bed, Mummy?"

"Of course you can. Go round the other side, and climb in."

She smoothed the bedcover and folded the farther side back, so he could scramble under the covers. Tucking the bedclothes around him as he snuggled down, she kissed him on the top of his head.

"Night night, Clovey."

"'Night, Mummy."

Rosemary laid back down, placing one light hand on her son's waist. He wriggled against it, then twisted his head around a little. "It doesn't scare me _very_ much. I'm quite brave, you know."

Rosemary smiled into the darkness. "You are. And there's no need to be scared, they won't hurt you, you know."

"I know." The little boy's words were muffled by the sheets, as he returned to sleep.

"In fact, I'll tell you a secret." Rosemary spoke quietly, eliciting nothing more than a murmur from Clover. "I used to have a dream like yours when I was little. That's why you have it, too."

There was no response from the now-sleeping child, but she carried on, speaking as if to remind herself. "The person I saw in my dream, was someone I came to love dearly. It was your father. So I'm sure the person in your dream will be someone special to you, too."

Clover stirred in his sleep, but gave no indication he had heard her words. Rosemary leaned forward and kissed him gently on the back of his head.

"Sleep tight, Clovey."

❖❖❖

"Clover Ebi! Pay attention!"

Startled from his reverie, Clover looked away from the classroom window and back to the front of the room. A few of his fellow classmates, mostly twelve years old as he was, giggled at his discomfiture. His maths teacher did not look impressed, her frown creasing her already lined face.

"What's the matter, Clover? Is algebra not interesting enough for you?"

"I— I'm sorry, Mrs Talbot. I got distracted by a bird outside the window..."

"Birds can be fascinating, that's true. But right now, we need to give our full attention to these simultaneous equations."

Clover leaned forward with his elbows on the desk, trying to focus on the smartboard as Mrs Talbot indicated the problem they had to solve. He _did_ enjoy maths, but he also enjoyed watching the large black bird which visited the school grounds occasionally.

He wondered if, as on other days when he'd seen the bird—if it was the same one, he didn't even know—he would have the dream tonight.

The dream was almost always the same, and he only had it the night after seeing the bird. He was following someone, and no matter how quickly he walked, he was unable to reach the person. If he tried to run, he would get closer, but then stumble and fall. After getting to his feet and looking around, the person he'd been pursuing would be gone.

When he woke up the following morning, there was a sense that he'd missed out on something important. Like the time he'd forgotten to get his mother to sign for the school trip to the museum, and he had to stay behind with Esme, who was scared of dinosaurs.

❖

The dream crept up on him, just like it had every other time. One moment he'd been about to skydive from the airship, only there was a dog there, and he was worried the dog wouldn't know how to skydive... then he was walking through a forest. It wasn't always a forest; previously it had been on a beach, along a cliff top, down the high street— usually a different place each time. Tonight it was a forest, the trees well spaced out, sunlight slanting through the canopy. He could see the figure up ahead, picking their way carefully through the tangled undergrowth. He didn't run this time, but walked slowly, keeping his distance. It was no good— the figure picked up speed, Clover broke into a run, tripping over as usual. When he stood up, the figure had disappeared.

He wondered, on the rare occasions he thought about it, whether other kids had repeating dreams like he did. He'd asked his friend Jocasta, but she'd laughed and said he was silly. She never recalled her dreams, and couldn't see why anyone would want to.

Clover decided not to ask anyone else.

❖

The sightings of the black bird stopped, as did Clover's dreams. Well, he still dreamed, but no-one appeared to seemingly taunt him from afar. He forgot about the dreams in the excitement which took over the school in the preparations for Sports Day.

Clover was an active boy and enjoyed all sports, team sports especially. These did not feature so much in the annual event, except for the team relays, in which he usually participated. The weather was warm and dry, so many lessons were spent outdoors practising for the big day.

After an afternoon of activity, Clover and some other pupils were relaxing on the far side of the sports field. He lay on his back, idly nibbling on a stalk of grass, almost drowsing in the heat. As he rolled over, he saw a large black bird— _the_ bird—just a few feet away. They stared at each other for a long moment, before the bird pushed itself off the ground and flew lazily across the field, slowly rising to circle round before flying effortlessly away.

Clover watched the black speck until it was no longer visible. He wasn't sure if he welcomed his dreams that night, or feared them.

He awoke abruptly, in the early hours of the morning. His room was still dark, and he could not remember having dreamed about anything. With a feeling of disappointment, he curled up on his side and eventually slept again.

This time, when the dream came, it was more vivid. The person he followed seemed distracted, pausing frequently as they walked along the beach at the sea's edge. The light had an unusual quality, and Clover could see the figure more clearly than ever before. Their black hair was quite short, and at no time did they turn their head, so he still had no idea who it was. In the dream, this did not worry him. He was not frightened of the person, simply intrigued. His dreaming self was sure that one day, he would catch up with the figure, and then he would know all he needed to.

❖

Sports Day came and went, the day itself being marred somewhat by a faint drizzle which made it less enjoyable than usual. The school year was almost at an end, with one last event to enjoy before the children packed their school bags for the last time as the summer holidays began.

The School Fair was celebrated by all the pupils, teachers, and parents. Old pupils who had left the school previously, would also return to enjoy the fun. The grounds were extremely busy, with a variety of stalls, food outlets, and several fairground rides which were hired for the day.

This time the weather smiled kindly on the organisers, and the day was fair and dry, with a light breeze fluttering the bunting around the stalls. Clover had arrived with his mother, but quickly spotted Jocasta in the throng. Rosemary had several friends amongst the parents, so she was happy for Clover to run off with his friend, enabling her to catch up with hers.

"Here's some lien for the stalls, and _please_ don't spend it all on candyfloss."

"I won't. See you later, Mum."

"Bye, Mrs Ebi." Jocasta waved and took Clover's hand, the two of them quickly lost in the crowd.

"Would you like to go on a ride?" Clover was keen, but he wasn't sure if Jocasta would think some of the rides too babyish.

"I haven't got much lien." Jocasta peered into her small purse, biting her lip.

"I've got some, I'll pay for us both."

They explored the rides before deciding on the Twister. It was brightly painted with pictures of cartoon Grimm decorating the cars. They waited for the current ride to finish, and when the riders had all climbed off, they scrambled up and found an empty car.

Clover pulled the bar down over their laps, and they grinned at each other as they gripped it tightly. After the attendant had moved around the ride, checking everyone was secure, the music started and the cars began to revolve slowly.

The music increased in volume and tempo as the cars sped up, each one rotating as the arm it was on moved in and out. Jocasta was screaming almost constantly, somehow managing to laugh at the same time. Clover grinned widely as he felt the air rush past him, an exhilarating sensation which made him feel that if he leapt skywards, he could soar above the crowds and simply keep flying.

The ride was starting to decelerate, and Clover looked from Jocasta's flushed face up into the bright sky above. The music faded away as he saw a large black bird, wings beating to a rhythm of its own, swooping down towards them. He stood up, not aware of what he was doing, before Jocasta pulled at his clothes, forcing him to sit back with a bump.

"Sit down, Clover, or we'll get into trouble."

The ride had not quite stopped. Clover looked up once more, but the bird had gone.

They jumped down from the Twister, legs a little wobbly. Jocasta squinted at Clover. "Why did you stand up?"

Clover glanced at her quickly, before looking away at the stalls they were passing. "I saw my bird." His voice was a mumble which Jocasta barely heard.

"What... a pet bird? Your bird has escaped?"

"No, not that... it doesn't matter, you'll only laugh again."

"When did I laugh at a bird?"

"It's okay, Casta, doesn't matter. Let's get some ice-cream."

After queueing for ice-cream they walked slowly to the edges of the funfair, where the crowd was thinner and they were less likely to be jostled. Conversation took second place to carefully licking the cones and trying to catch the drips of thawing ice cream before they fell.

Clover heard a giggling voice as they passed a gap between two tents. Glancing down, he saw Esme with a boy he didn't recognise. He had his hands on her shoulders and was kissing her.

After a few more steps, Clover stopped and turned to Jocasta. "That was Esme."

"Yeah." Jocasta was paying more attention to her cone, which was almost finished. She didn't want to waste a single mouthful.

"He was kissing her, is that okay?"

"Uh, she seemed okay with it. Boys kiss girls, right? You were in the sex-ed class, weren't you?"

Clover frowned. "Of course I was. We all were... what's that got to do with Esme, though?"

Jocasta gave him a pitying look. "You're smart, Clover. Work it out."

Clover couldn't work it out. He'd learned the mechanics of reproduction, but didn't see how that had anything to do with Esme and the boy.

"I must be stupid. I don't get it."

They walked on slowly. Jocasta looked at him, her lips pinched.

"Your Dad died a long time ago, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Well, when he was alive, him and your mum would've kissed like that. And then your mum had a baby. You."

Clover felt a twisting sensation in his stomach. "I _am_ stupid. I'd never really... I can't imagine my mum..."

Jocasta laughed. "No-one can, but it's true! My mum told me ages ago, and it's gross, but that's what happens. When you're old enough, you'll want to do it too."

"How will I know?" Clover felt uncomfortable, but didn't know why.

"Let's try it now." Jocasta pulled him eagerly from the main path. "Right, kiss me."

"What?" Clover was horrified. "Why?"

"To see if you're ready, stupid."

"But—"

Clover got no further, as his friend grabbed his face, pressing her lips hard against his. He froze, the taste of chocolate ice-cream against his mouth, the tickling sensation at the back of his neck, not totally unpleasant. After a long moment, she pulled away.

"Well? How was that?"

Clover rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "Alright, I guess." He didn't want to look at her face.

"You're meant to feel strong emotions. That's what my sister said." Jocasta's voice held an authoritative tone. "If you didn't, then you're not ready."

Clover glanced at her. "Did you, then?"

"Nah. You're just my mate, right?" Jocasta punched him on the arm. "Let's go and find another ride. Or maybe try the Grimm shooting range?"

She ran on ahead, Clover quickening his steps, before breaking into a trot as he began to catch up with her.

❖

Clover fell asleep quickly that night. A day spent in the open air, chasing around the funfair after Jocasta, guaranteed complete weariness by bedtime.

This time, the dream had changed again. Clover followed the figure across a wide open field, sheep scattered in the distance, no-one else in sight. The figure had almost reached the boundary hedge when it stopped, and began to turn to face him. Clover's heart beat faster, his pace quickened, and then... he found he could not progress any further. He stood, gazing at the figure, who turned away. With a movement that Clover could not make sense of, the person became a black bird, which flew away from Clover without a sound.

When he woke the following morning, there was a hardness in his groin. He wasn't totally sure what it meant, but he suspected it was connected to what Jocasta had talked about at the fair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover begins to come to terms with who he is.  
> And tries his hand at writing poetry.

Clover was glad that Jocasta had transferred to the same senior school as himself. Although a sociable boy, he sometimes struggled in a large group of noisy teenagers, and Casta was a friendly face.

They weren't in the same class, but usually met up at least once a day. Jocasta had made some new friends, who teased her about her "boyfriend". She lost no time in correcting their false assumption, with a confidence Clover envied.

"How do you do it, Casta? I can never think of what to say until half-an-hour after it's too late."

"I dunno, Cloves. Either you've got it, or you haven't."

"I mean, I get on with pretty much everyone, just don't really have a good friend, except for you."

"You will, you'll see. What happened to that guy, what was his name, you seemed to be getting on well with him?" Jocasta didn't notice the blush that washed over Clover's face.

"Oh, you mean Fergus? His family moved away... he didn't come back to school this year."

"Oh, shame. Anyway, me and some of the others are going to the cinema on Saturday, are you interested? It's Grimm Wars 2."

"Yeah, why not?" Clover hoped his face had returned to normal, as Jocasta continued to chatter away at his side.

❖

They walked home after school, deciding to call in to the ice-cream parlour on the way. The weather was still warm, even though summer was giving way to autumn. As they walked along the high street, a stiff breeze sprang up, setting the canopies above the shopfronts fluttering. Across the road, a clothes shop with a deep red awning caught Clover's eye. Jocasta saw him staring.

"What's up?"

"Don't know, is that shop new? The one with the red awning... don't think that was here before?"

"Might be... do you want to go and look?"

"No, it's fine..." Clover scratched his chin. "It just caught my eye, that's all. Let's get our ice-cream."

❖

After he'd done his homework, Clover played on his scroll until it was nearly bedtime. He heard Rosemary coming up the stairs, and quickly put the scroll away, pulling out a notebook and pencil. She tapped on the partially closed door, then peered around it.

"Homework all done?"

"Yep, all finished. Just going to read a bit before bed."

"Okay, say goodnight before you turn in, won't you?"

Clover smiled at her. "Don't I always?"

"You do. You're a good boy, Clovey."

As she went back downstairs, Clover grimaced at the pet name she still used sometimes. _It feels like I'm five again. Not sure I want to be a_ good boy _, that sounds boring. I should try being a bad boy._

He sucked the end of his pencil, before admitting to himself that he didn't have the first idea about how to be a bad boy. With a sigh, he opened the battered notebook and turned the pages, flicking past the scribbled notes until he found a blank sheet. After a few minutes of staring across the room, he began to write.

  


_They all look at her in that way_

_Like she looks at me_

_But I can't_

_I see that she's pretty_

_Her hair looks soft_

_But I don't want to touch it_

__  


_I want to feel his hair_

_But_

_He doesn't want that_

_He looks at her in that way_

_And he doesn't look at me_

  


Clover stopped writing, staring at the notebook and biting his lower lip until he drew blood. He licked his lips, sniffing slightly as he took the notebook and slid it into the bottom drawer of the dresser. Quietly closing the drawer, he stood up and went downstairs.

"I'm going to sleep now, Mum."

His mother was watching TV, stroking the ginger cat which was curled up on her lap.

"Good night, Clovey. Sleep well."

"'Night, Mum. 'Night, Marmaduke." He went to leave the room, before turning back. "Mum, could you not call me that?"

"Call you what? Clovey?"

"Yeah, it sounds a bit babyish now."

"Oh, I'm sorry, love. I'll try and remember." She smiled. "I've called you Clovey for so long, it might take me a while to get used to not saying it."

Clover looked at her, and swallowed hard before crossing the room quickly. He rubbed the cat underneath his chin, before reaching over and kissing his mother on the top of her head.

"Love you, Mum." His voice was a mumble against her hair. Rosemary patted her son on the arm.

"And I love you too, Clover. Good night, sweetheart."

As he finally left the room, Rosemary found a tissue and blotted the tears from her eyes. "He's growing up so fast," she whispered to Marmaduke, stroking the ginger fur gently as she turned her attention back to the TV.

  


Clover hoped he would fall asleep quickly, but of course that didn't happen. Nearly every night he would lie awake, trying not to think about Aidan. The more he tried to dispel the thoughts, the more they lodged inside his head, affording him no peace. The boy was friendly enough, happy to chat with Clover about any number of inconsequential things. All Clover wanted to do was kiss him, in a way he'd never wanted to kiss anyone before. _How come I'm fifteen and have never kissed anyone? Except Casta that time, and that was only a joke... These are the_ strong emotions _she was going on about._ _Why do I have to have them for_ him?

Clover knew he must be gay. He had visited any number of websites—in private mode, of course—filled in numerous quizzes, read so many articles... He was in no doubt. What he wasn't sure of, was what he should do about it.

He was certain Aidan was not gay. He spoke sometimes about Opal, a particularly pretty girl in their class. "I'd definitely go there, but she's only got eyes for you." Clover had laughed at that. _She's wasting her time with me_ , he wanted to say. _I'm not into girls_.

But he didn't. He just feigned shyness— which wasn't difficult, as his embarrassment was acute. And that was as far as it went.

He wondered what it would feel like, if his fingers could touch Aidan's dark, wavy hair, gently pushing through to brush against his scalp...

Clover rolled over in the bed, unable to ignore the erection which was preventing him from getting to sleep. He knew what he would have to do, and reached for the box of tissues, trying to make as little noise as possible.

❖

This time he was climbing a fairly steep hill, his breath coming quickly with the effort of the ascent. He saw the figure ahead, farther up the slope, striding effortlessly on long legs. The wind tousled their black hair into feathery spikes as they maintained their distance from Clover. He saw them stop and begin to turn, and at that moment Clover caught his foot on a loose stone and stumbled forward. He pushed himself up, rubbing his hands to get the grit off.

The figure had vanished.

❖

When his alarm sounded the following morning, Clover cancelled it impatiently. He was wide awake, recalling in vivid detail the dream of last night. He hadn't had the dream for several years— since changing schools, he hadn't seen the bird, and had assumed there would be no more dreams. Clover didn't know what had triggered it, as he hadn't seen the bird yesterday either.

Later in the day he caught up with Jocasta at lunchtime. "I need to talk to you about something important."

She finished scraping the last of the pudding from her bowl. "Okay, shall we go for a walk?"

They skirted the edge of the main building and crossed the basketball court, heading to the grassy area beyond. Clover glanced sidelong at his friend, wondering how to start, and then decided to just do it.

"I don't fancy girls. I'm gay."

Jocasta's steps slowed, then she moved in front of him and turned back.

"I thought as much."

Clover's eyes widened. "You knew? How?"

"Cloves, I've known you forever. It just seemed... obvious to me. Perhaps it was that kiss at the fair when we were little."

He frowned at her smiling face. "Don't make fun of me, Casta."

Her smile vanished as she laid a hand on his arm. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. We're still friends, right?" Her worried face looked up into his.

"'Course we are, you idiot. If you don't mind being seen with me."

"Why should I? We're best buddies, Cloves. And if anyone gives you grief..." She punched a clenched fist into the palm of her other hand. "They'll have me to deal with."

Clover regarded his oldest friend, a diminutive hero who would protect him from hurt. He laughed, hugging her tightly. "They'd be sorry if they messed with you."

Jocasta returned the hug, before pulling away, her face serious. "No, I mean it though. Not everyone is that... accepting, you know."

"I expect I'll find out. Don't plan on putting up posters about it, mind you."

"Does your mum know?"

"I haven't told her yet. I'm going to, though."

❖

Leaving the final lesson that day, Clover caught up with Opal. She smiled at him, perfect teeth in a perfect face. Clover involuntarily smiled back. "Opal, there's something I wanted to tell you." She continued to smile. Clover wondered whether he'd chosen the best moment.

Swallowing hard, he said, "I thought it was fair to let you know, in case... well, anyway, the thing is... I'm not interested in girls."

Opal's smile might never have existed; her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

"What? No, why would I joke... I just thought..." Clover glanced at her expressionless face, pale except for the redness rising in her cheeks. She raised a swift hand, slapping him hard across the side of his face.

"That's for making me look stupid." She spun on her heel, her long fair hair flicking to one side, and walked away swiftly.

Clover raised a hand to his face, his lower lip trembling. It didn't hurt—well, only a bit—but, why had she done that? _I thought I was doing the right thing._

He heard laughter from a group of boys walking past. "Better luck next time, bro!" One of them clapped him on the shoulder as they jostled past him in the corridor.

Clover laughed, not trusting his voice at the moment. With slow footsteps, he headed for the stairs on his way home.

❖

As Rosemary ladled the pasta into bowls, Clover began, "Mum—"

"What, are you not very hungry? Shall I give you a smaller portion?"

"No, give me plenty, please. It's not that." _I hope she takes this better than Opal did._

Rosemary set the bowls on the table, and took a seat opposite him. "What is it, then?"

Clover stared at the pasta in his bowl, poking it with a spoon.

"I'm gay."

He heard his mother sigh deeply.

"Thank you, Clover. For telling me." She reached across the table, one hand stroking his gently. Clover finally met her gaze.

"You don't mind? You're not angry?"

Rosemary pushed her chair back, moving to clasp her son against her chest. "My lovely boy, what do you mean? Whatever you are, you are, Clover. I will love and support you however I can. You're my precious boy."

Clover felt her tears dripping onto the side of his head, trickling down past his ear.

"Oh, Mum." He put his spoon down, turning to hug Rosemary tightly, the sobs forcing their way painfully from his chest. "It's all so messy."

Rosemary stroked his hair, making soothing noises just as she had done for so many years. "Growing up is rarely easy, and you'll have particular difficulties, I expect. But those of us who love you, will be with you all the way."

"Thanks, Mum." Clover swallowed several times, sniffing loudly. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "You're the best mum."

Rosemary ruffled his hair. "And you're the best son. But come on, let's eat before this gets cold." She returned to her side of the table, sitting to face him with a smile.

"I did wonder." Rosemary considered her son, facing her with a slight wrinkle still on his forehead. "I'm so glad you felt you were able to tell me. Now we both know, we can just get on with it." She hesitated, a frown crossing her face. "But you know, Clover, there are... things you have to be careful of, if you..."

"Mum, please! Not at the dinner table!" Clover's face reddened as he studied his food. "I know about all that... it's all on the internet."

"Well, just be sure the advice comes from a reliable source." Rosemary's tone was brisk as she began to eat. "And I know you think I'm ancient, and know nothing about that side of things, but— you can always talk to me. About anything."

They exchanged smiles, and Rosemary began to tell Clover how she had rescued a small bird from Marmaduke earlier that day.

❖

The next day was Saturday, and when Clover went back to school after the weekend, he could tell.

He supposed Opal must have told some people, and when he saw her in class, smiling grimly at him, he knew.

Aidan approached him at break time.

"So I hear that you're gay, yeah?" Clover's insides became liquid as he glanced at the other boy.

"Uh, yeah." His voice was almost a whisper.

"Okay." Aidan's tone was offhand, and his voice lowered as he continued. "Opal told me. Seemed to think it was some big deal. I told her she should mind her own business."

Clover managed to get his breath going again. "Th-thanks, Aidan. That was—"

"Hey, no worries. I won't be in competition with you, now!" Laughing, he added, "Not that I'll be asking Opal out. The way she spoke was pretty spiteful." He clapped a hand on Clover's shoulder.

"Anyway, see you later, Ebi." He strode off to catch up with a friend, leaving Clover standing in the classroom, hands trembling slightly.

After that, he noticed a few curious glances in his direction, but mostly life went on as before. The only people who ignored him, were the people who would have ignored him anyway.

❖

The school year was about three-quarters through, and a trip was proposed for the students to relax after a week of exams. A visit to a nearby beauty spot, with woodland trails and a large swimming lake, was arranged. The whole of Clover's year group was set to go on the same day, and everyone hoped for fine weather as the day grew closer.

The sky was grey on the morning of the trip, but no rain fell and as the coaches approached the lake, the sun broke through the clouds. A loud cheer also broke out as the youngsters exited the coaches, spilling out into the parking area before being corralled by several teachers. After checking the register and issuing safety instructions, the students were dismissed to explore the area.

Clover joined Jocasta and two of her classmates. "We're going to explore the trees first, and maybe swim later if it's warm enough."

"Sounds fine to me." Clover hitched his bag over one shoulder, and they set off to find the start of the woodland trail. As they entered the trees, he wondered idly whether there would be any large black birds to be seen. The chatter of the others distracted him from this thought, and by the time they'd decided it was time for lunch, he had forgotten all about it.

The afternoon warmed up and the group decided to risk the cool lake water. After finding some thick shrubbery to get changed in, they ran shrieking into the lake. Several other groups were doing the same, and the tranquil waters preferred by the water birds gave way to raucous laughter as the students swam and splashed each other.

Clover's eyes were drawn to a red flag, flapping from a pole at one end of the lake. He swam towards it, wondering what it signified. As he got closer, he felt his strokes slow, his legs becoming heavier as though the water was no longer supporting him. He heard someone call his name, as if in the distance, and turned languidly in the water, to see Jocasta swimming towards him.

"What are you doing? This is a no-go area, didn't you see the flag?" Her voice hitched as she spluttered, trying to catch her breath.

Clover looked round, feeling dazed. _Of course, a red flag means no swimming_. He felt foolish.

"I saw it, I... didn't think."

"Not thinking gets you dead. Come back towards the shallower part." Jocasta began to swim slowly away from the flag; Clover following reluctantly. He didn't know what had drawn him to it, and with a shake of his head he increased his stroke to catch up.

  


Clover almost fell asleep on the coach journey back to school, and was ready to go to bed much earlier than usual. Saying goodnight to Rosemary and Marmaduke, he undressed quickly and decided against reading. After shifting from one side to another, he was finally comfortable, and fell asleep.

❖

He was walking above the water, on an old-fashioned wooden pier which stretched far out into the sea. The plaintive mewling of the gulls was left behind as he walked on, replaced by the slapping of the waves against the pier supports. The tall figure was nearly at the end of the pier, their red cape fluttering away to one side, like a pennant in the stiff breeze. Clover's footsteps faltered as he registered this new addition to his dream. _Why are they wearing a cape? This is making even less sense..._ Returning from his thoughts to look ahead, he raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare coming off the water, shimmering shards of light which clouded his vision. The figure came to a halt, its solidity dissolving like a mirage above tarmac on a hot day. It had gone, the cape wafting down onto the pier boards in a sinuous movement. Clover ran forwards to pick it up, stooping to touch the silky fabric.

He woke up.

  


Clover had the _red cape_ dream, as he called it, a few more times before leaving school. After spending a lot of time trying to spot a connection between events, he realised that the dream came after he's seen some kind of red cloth. The shop awning, the swimming flag, the washing line, the marching parade...

He couldn't imagine what kind of person would wear a cape like that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover's life does not proceed in the way he had imagined.  
> And why can't everybody else be as tidy as he is?

Clover scanned the room one last time, before picking up his bag and heading for the door. When he left the barracks for a trip, he had to satisfy himself that his area of the dorm was clean and tidy. If he didn't, it would niggle at the back of his thoughts while he was away.

It didn't mean it would be _quite_ as tidy when he returned, he knew. The other three he shared the room with, weren't always as particular as he was. It had made for a few awkward moments at the start, when they were still getting used to each other's habits and routines. One of the others had asked for a room swap; it seemed even the mildest request to not leave their clothes on your own bed was too much.

Clover had expected it to be different. He appreciated the order which military training brought to his life, and thought that would be true for everyone. It seemed not.

He and the remaining room-mates, with the addition of Ederne, had settled into a pattern which suited them all. Clover had learned to be less fastidious, and with the creation of their _house rules_ list, there were no more misunderstandings. Rules were what underpinned military life, after all.

  


Clover had graduated from Haven Academy with high honours. His plan, when questioned about it during his last year, had been to take some time off to go travelling, before finding a job as a Huntsman. He wanted to be able to live close to home— Rosemary had told him his old room was always there for him. But he wanted to be independent, whilst still close enough to be able to visit her frequently.

Things hadn't worked out quite the way he'd expected. On Graduation Day, he'd been approached by a representative from Atlas Academy. As a promising student, recommended to them by Haven, would he like to join the Atlas military? There was a year's induction programme, which all non-Atlas students followed, and after that he would be fully qualified to begin his career as a soldier.

This unexpected offer presented Clover with a problem. He had always intended to live near his family home— his mother had not re-married and he didn't like the idea of being too far away. When he'd mentioned it to her, rather diffidently, she'd told him to accept the offer, if he wanted it.

"You can't live your life around me, you know. Of course I would miss you, but we can call each other as often as you want. You might find that once you're there, you don't have time for calls home anyway!" Rosemary had smiled, raising a hand to her son's face. "Atlas! Your father would be so proud of you, Clover."

He'd hugged his mother tightly. "Thanks, Mum. I wish he was here."

"So do I, love. So do I."

❖

In the three years Clover had been in Atlas, he had only been home a handful of times, and his mother had visited him once before. This time, it was to be a one-night stopover before they went on to Vale, to visit Clover's Aunt Venetia. She was his father's older sister, and Rosemary had maintained contact with her after Rowan Ebi died.

Clover waited at the Atlas airstrip impatiently. The flight was delayed due to bad weather, and he was trying to distract himself. _No point in fretting, she'll be here soon._ He took another sip of coffee and tried to concentrate on his scroll, scanning the news headlines for an article worth reading.

After another twenty minutes, the incoming flight was announced. Clover gathered his things and walked quickly to the arrivals area. As the bustle of passengers began to file through, he finally caught sight of his mother, a sense of relief washing over him.

"Hello, love! What a trip that was!" Rosemary embraced her son. She didn't enjoy flying alone, but would never let Clover know this.

Clover took the handle of her case. "I wasn't _really_ worried," he said, looking down at her with a smile.

Rosemary laughed. "No, of course you weren't! Not that you'd tell me, anyway."

The easy understanding they shared settled comfortably over them, a soothing blanket which rolled back the years for both mother and son.

"It's not far to the hotel, we can walk if that's okay with you?"

"Yes, let's, I could do with stretching my legs after that flight."

  


The following day they took an airship to Vale. The flight was long but uneventful, and fortunately there was not a long wait for the train in Vale, which would take them from the airstrip to the area beyond the city, where Venetia lived.

Clover sat by the window, looking out over the fields as the train travelled further into the countryside. After the snowy terrain of Solitas, the abundance of colour in the landscape almost hurt his eyes. A few fields were already stubble, the crops having been harvested earlier in the autumn. Others still contained expanses of yellow wheat, or tall green maize plants. Others were grazed by sheep or cows, and as the train slowed to approach a station, Clover saw some farm workers cutting hay in a field. They were not using machinery, but old-fashioned looking grass scythes, which were swept back and forth rhythmically as they worked their way across. Clover found the motion almost mesmeric, and as the train continued into the station he craned his head, trying to catch a further glimpse of the farm workers.

Rosemary looked up from her book. "Are you okay, love? What can you see?"

Clover sank back into his seat. "Uh, it was some people cutting hay in a field. With scythes."

"Ah yes, I think they do still use them in some areas. Not all of the smaller farms have the machinery." She gave him a smile and went back to her book.

The train continued its journey, but Clover saw no more workers using scythes. After another half-hour or so, they arrived at their destination. Venetia was waiting at the station, and after several minutes exclaiming at how tall Clover had grown, they were on their way.

❖

That night, Clover had the dream again. It was the first one for many years, and he had been so busy with his Academy and military life, the memories of the recurring dream from his childhood had faded.

Now he was on a high walkway in a strange, metallic environment. The familiar figure ahead of him, the red cape hanging from their shoulders, was lithe yet did not seem so tall now. There was a steady hum as of many machines, and for a moment the figure paused, as though listening. They began to slowly turn about, the side of their face coming into view. Clover tried to get closer, but he could not move. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the edge of a pale face, the shadowing of— _is that stubble?_ —on their jaw.

Then the area was plunged into darkness.

❖

Clover woke the following morning, the slow remembrance of his dream stirring a warm feeling at the base of his stomach.

  


The visit passed quickly. Clover enjoyed catching up with his cousins, and the weather stayed fine, so they were able to enjoy the countryside. The contrast between Vale and Atlas, in landscape and climate, was brought home to Clover every time they went out. He had grown used to the cooler weather of his adopted home, but did not really miss it. He always cherished time spent with his mother, and when the time came to leave, he found it difficult to part from her with a smile.

"I enjoy my work, Mum. It isn't that. I only wish you were closer."

"I couldn't live in Atlas, Clover. It's just too cold for me."

"I know. Maybe one day—" But he didn't know how to continue.

Rosemary was returning directly to Mistral, so they were both at the airstrip waiting for their respective departures. Clover hugged his mother, looking over her head at the board which displayed the departure information.

"Time for you to go." He squeezed her tightly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

She reached up and kissed his cheek, one final time. "Travel safely, my precious boy."

He stood and watched until she had paused at the corner to wave, before turning and disappearing from view.

❖

As was usual for Hunters, Clover had designed his weapon during his time at Haven Academy. He had wanted something a little unusual, and had chosen a fishing rod. His grandfather had been a keen fisherman, and Clover had distant memories of spending time with him in his small boat, when the family visited during the summer.

A fishing rod did have limitations, he came to realise, so he booked a session with Weapons Development to discuss how it could be enhanced. He hadn't spent much time in the department before, and while waiting for Jinty Clarke—the Weapons Master—to finish speaking on the phone, he looked around the spacious workshop at some of the displays on the walls.

One particular cabinet caught his eye. It showed two kama displayed in a crossed formation, the small scythe-shaped blades gleaming.

A shiver passed through Clover's body as he studied the weapons, his face almost pressed to the glass as he scrutinised every detail of them. He lifted his hand involuntarily, wanting to touch the unusual skull detail on the shaft. A voice behind him jolted him from his reverie.

"Lieutenant... Ebi, is it? Ah, I see the Grimm Reaper's weapons have caught your eye. Not the original _Life and Death_ , of course, merely replicas. Very good ones, though. I may have had a hand in creating those." She laughed. "Not many scythe wielders since her, of course, there was that student from Beacon several years ago, what was his name? Brennan... no, Blodwyn, that was it I think, he was very good, not sure what happened to him..."

Clover had stopped listening to the armourer some while ago. He was spellbound by the scythes, and her words rolled over him in a formless wave as he gazed at the curved blades.

With a start, he realised she had fallen silent, and he coughed loudly. "Sorry, I missed that last thing you said?"

"I was wondering how we could help you today?"

Clover held out Kingfisher, after the briefest of glances back at the display case.

"Overall I'm pleased with my weapon, but I feel it needs a little extra something, and hoped you could help."

"May I?" Jinty took Kingfisher, turning it over and over, humming under her breath. "Hmm, very nice. What do you think about the addition of a harpoon, perhaps?"

Intrigued, Clover followed her to a workbench, all thoughts of the Grimm Reaper set aside.

❖

Clover woke to darkness, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to quiet his breathing. The dorm was quiet, one person snoring softly. Clover's blood thrummed in his ears as he lay in the gloom.

The dream again. He'd been running from something... the figure ahead would help him, somehow... there'd been a creeping fear, a feeling of encroaching dread... the red cape swirled, as the figure— _that's definitely a guy_ —lifted their arm over their shoulder to remove something from their—his—back.

Clover glanced over his shoulder, unable to see what was pursuing him.

When he looked ahead, the man had gone.

❖

The following year, he was delighted to hear that Jocasta and Aidan had finally married. After several years out of school, they had met again and things had developed from there. Now, they were visiting Atlas as part of their honeymoon travels, and would spend three days in the floating city.

Clover met them at the airstrip, laughing as Jocasta dropped her bags and ran to him, launching herself to jump up and hug his neck. Aidan approached more slowly, standing back until Jocasta dropped down, pulling him forward into a group hug.

"Casta, will you _ever_ grow up?"

"Sorry Cloves, whenever I see you I revert to being a teenager again."

"Gods, please no. Let's forget being that age."

"Really good to see you again, Clover. How are things?" Aidan's eyes were smiling as they met. Clover felt a lurch in his gut. _Damn, why does he still do this to me?_

"All good, thanks. Busy, you know? Though not too busy to show you two the sights." Clover's voice was steady as he replied. _Military training to the rescue, thank the Brothers._

❖

The following evening Clover had booked a table at his favourite restaurant. It served dishes from around the world, so he was confident they would all find something to enjoy.

Jocasta and Aidan were waiting outside when he arrived. Jocasta raised her eyebrows at Clover's companion.

"Guys, this is Elm Ederne, a colleague and my good friend. Elm, this is Jocasta and Aidan. I _may_ have mentioned them a few times in the past."

They all greeted each other, Jocasta's eyebrows asking the question of Clover as they separated. Elm saw the glance.

"It's not like that! Clover and I really are just friends," she laughed. "I may have had hopes at some point but... I soon learned we didn't sing from the same sheet."

" _Thank you_ , Elm. I'd hoped to put the embarrassment of that conversation behind me. This is all going so well."

"It's all _fine_." Jocasta pulled on his arm, as Elm and Aidan exchanged grins. "Embarrassing you has always been the way we show our love, Cloves. Now, who's hungry?"

After the meal, they made their slow way through the dark streets back to the hotel.

"You'll come in for a nightcap?"

"Sorry, Casta, we can't. Early start for us, we're not all on honeymoon."

"We're seeing you tomorrow evening, though?" Aidan put his arm across Jocasta's shoulders, as a chilly breeze swirled about them.

"Sure thing! Karaoke, isn't it?" Clover wasn't the best singer, but he knew Jocasta had always loved karaoke.

"It certainly is. Will you be able to come, Elm?"

The tall woman grinned at her. "I'd love to. The chance to get a video of Ebi singing... wouldn't miss it."

Clover groaned. "I'm doomed."

"Yep, you are indeed." Elm clapped his shoulder as they said their goodbyes.

The walk back to the barracks passed an area of shops with brightly lit windows. One was a costume shop, the central display showing a black robed figure with a weapon held over their shoulder. Clover glanced as they passed. It was a large scythe.

"What is it with scythes? I hadn't seen one in ever, and this is the third time in the last year."

"Scythes? What are you on about?"

Clover rubbed his hand though his hair. "Oh, nothing. Don't mind me."

"Always happy to follow orders." Elm laughed as they approached the entry point to the barracks, the guard nodding them though.

❖

The battlefield was littered with Grimm remains, each slowly dissipating into an acrid inky cloud. The blackness was blown away on the wind, but the sour tang in the air remained.

Clover looked about him. No more Grimm to dispose of, just himself and the man standing about thirty metres away. He was facing away from Clover, folding up his weapon before stowing it on his back. The man flicked his red cape, enabling it to sit squarely across his shoulders.

Clover sank to his knees, utterly weary. The man turned and began to walk towards him, a slow yet steady pace. Clover looked up into his face.

❖

When Elm awoke the following morning, she saw Clover laying on his front, one arm dangling towards the floor. His face was pressed into the pillow. _How does anyone sleep like that?_ She rested a hand at the top of his shoulder, feeling the even pace of his breathing. _Not dead then, good._ She grabbed her towel and headed for the bathroom.

Clover woke when Elm returned to the dorm, almost falling out of bed when she came in, whistling.

"'Morning, Ebi. Good night's sleep? You looked like you were out for the count."

Clover sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before stretching, yawning loudly. "It was good. A perfectly dreamless sleep, for once."

As he spoke, Clover's eyebrows knitted together. _Wasn't there something I was supposed to remember?_

With a shake of his head, he climbed from his bed and made his way to the bathroom.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover's life is going smoothly, until an untimely Grimm attack, with an unexpected rescue.  
> And finally, everything makes sense.

Elm shouted into the teeth of the wind. "It's a medical emergency, Captain Ebi is down, we need urgent assistance..."

She turned away from Clover, who was lying unconscious on the snow. The Ice Sabyrs were still prowling just out of reach, and the rest of the team was nowhere in sight. _How in Dust's name did we get separated? And where did that enormous Manticore come from?_

There was no response in her earpiece, and Elm realised she could not rely on support arriving any time soon. She stood up, her back to Clover's prone form. Timber was held against one shoulder, ready for action.

Elm spun round as her eye caught a flurry of dark movement behind her. She raised her weapon with both hands, but instead of a Grimm, there was a lanky, dark-haired figure holding a scythe. _A scythe? What the—_ Before Elm had a chance to speak, he leapt forwards and swept the oversized weapon through the Sabyr pack, taking three out with one sweep. The last rushed towards her, and Elm swung Timber, reducing the Grimm to ashes.

She scanned about; no further Grimm were visible. The man collapsed his weapon into a large sword, circling around where she crouched beside Clover, until satisfied that the area was clear. He turned to Elm.

"Is help on the way?" He gestured to Clover, lying on the ground, his head turned to one side.

Elm could hear a response in her ear. "It is, they should reach us in a few minutes. But—"

"Time I wasn't here, then." With that, there was a blur of movement, and he was gone.

Elm shook her head, watching a black bird lift up into the air, its body buffeted by the strong winds. It circled around a few times, finally flying off as the truck approached.

❖

The following day, Clover woke in the medical wing. His head felt light, and his chest and shoulder ached. One arm was tightly strapped, and he had no strength in the other to push himself up.

A nurse approached. "Glad to see you awake, Captain." He picked up a tablet and entered some notes into it, before looking back to the bed. "Your colleagues have stopped by several times to see how you were. Oh, and Huntsman Branwen too."

Clover scratched his head. That name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. _Damn my fuzzy brain_.

There was a voice outside the door, which was pushed open as the visitor said over their shoulder, "Don't sweat it, I won't be long, just wanted to see how my soldier-boy is doing."

_Soldier-boy? Who is this?_

A man entered the room and approached the bed.

"Ah, here's Huntsman Branwen now. I'll leave you to it." The nurse nodded to Clover and left the room.

Clover stared at the figure who stood at the foot of the bed.

A fairly tall, lean man with feathery dark hair.

A man wearing a red cape.

A man with a weapon across his back, which Clover was certain would transform into a scythe.

He looked up into the man's face. An angular jawline, with a scattering of stubble across it.

"Who are you?" Clover's voice was a whisper.

The other man looked equally startled.

"It's you." His husky voice, with only two short words spoken, caused every nerve ending in Clover's body to tingle.

"You're my dream. I mean, you've been in my dreams. Since I was a kid." Clover's head was reeling, his heart racing, his hands trembling.

"I've seen _you_ so many times. Never knew who you were, whether you were even real. But you are." The other man's voice held a note of wonder.

"You're Qrow Branwen."

"For my sins." He laughed, a low, almost gravelly sound which sent a shiver down Clover's back.

"I don't understand." Clover's head hurt.

Qrow sat heavily in the bedside chair.

"I've heard of this, but I always thought it was crap." He laughed again, his voice a little shaky.

"Heard of what?" Clover sank back against the pillows.

"Dream partners. Doesn't happen often, and even when it does, the people who have the dreams are often settled with other partners by the time they meet."

Clover swallowed. "Are you—"

"Settled? Nah, never even come close." Qrow glanced at Clover, then looked away quickly. "You?"

Clover shook his head, unable to trust his voice. Images from his dreams whirled though his mind, culminating in a feeling of intense relief.

"Qrow?" He spoke the name hesitantly.

"Yeah?" There was a twisted smile on Qrow's lips.

"Is— this is real? I mean, it feels right... but, _dream partners_? They exist?" Clover could see all the pieces of his life settling into place, everything finally making sense.

"Yeah, I mean, why not? If there's magic that can allow people to turn into birds, then anything's possible, right?" Qrow was studying Clover, his eyes fixed on the man in the bed, as though he wanted to anchor the image irrevocably in his mind.

"Magic? Birds?" _This is heading in an odd direction suddenly._

"Uh, so, you weren't told? About me coming across you and your teammate on the tundra?"

"Hold on, it was you? Who helped Elm yesterday? I haven't had all the details yet..."

"Yep. That's why I called in, to see how you were. I never realised—"

"Gods, this is so weird."

"You're telling me. But look, we can talk about this when you're up and about."

"There will _be_ something to talk about?" Clover tried not to sound too needy.

"I would say so, if that's what you want."

Clover swallowed. "Do I— do you think you could..." He tailed off, colour rising in his face. "I _am_ into guys." He stared at the bedcover, picking at it with trembling fingers.

"Well, lucky me, then." He started laughing; Clover wasn't sure why.

Qrow stood up, moving to stand by the bed. Clover raised his eyes to meet Qrow's.

"I should leave, you've got some recovering to do, Clover."

At the sound of his name on Qrow's lips, Clover felt tears prickling behind his eyelids. He stretched out his good arm, just brushing Qrow's hand with his fingertips.

"We'll catch up, once I'm discharged? You'll still be around?"

Qrow looked down at Clover, his expression suddenly tender.

"Oh yes, I'm not going anywhere, don't you worry."

He raised a hand and walked backwards to the door, opening it and retreating through the doorway as though he did not want to turn away.

Clover lifted his hand and pressed his fingers to his mouth. _My dream man_. He laughed shakily to himself. _I need to get better, and quickly._

He sank into the pillow, slowly falling into a dreamless sleep. He didn't see Qrow, who had returned to peer through the glass panel of the door. The huntsman finally turned away, a soft smile on his face. His visit to Atlas was meant to be a short one, but he knew there was no way he was leaving. Not now.

❖

Clover was back in his quarters the next day, with instructions to take two days off to fully recover. He didn't know what to do with his time, and didn't know what to do about Qrow.

"Hi Casta, is it convenient?"

Her face flickered on the screen, her voice slightly out of sync with the video. "Yeah, sure. Everything okay?"

Clover and Jocasta messaged each other fairly regularly, but rarely video-called, as the signal where she lived was not always good.

"Yes, everything's fine. Well..."

"It's not your mum, is it?"

"What? No, no, she's okay. It's just—"

"What is it, Cloves? Spit it out."

Clover took a deep breath. "Do you remember, years ago, me telling you about that recurring dream I had? There was the bird, and the red flag, and—"

"Gods, yeah, I remember. I thought you were mad."

"Hmm, yes. Well, the dreams kind of carried on since then, and I saw more and more of the person in them each time, until..." Clover tailed off. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded.

"Yes, what? I'm on tenterhooks here."

"Well... he's here."

"What!" Jocasta's astonished face stared at him from the screen.

"I know, it's crazy. He actually kind of rescued me when there was a problem out on the tundra the other day."

"Clover, this is... barmy. What do you mean, he's there?"

"He's a huntsman, his name's Qrow Branwen. He looks exactly like the person in my dream, he wears a red cape, he fights with a scythe... and apparently he can turn into a bird. A crow."

Jocasta's eyes had grown wider with each statement. She stared at Clover, then shouted with laughter.

"This is a wind-up, right?"

"No, Casta, it isn't."

She stopped laughing abruptly as she looked at his expression. "So... have you spoken? What does he say? And hold on, he _turns into a bird?_ "

"Yeah, that part I'm not quite sure about yet. He called in while I was in medical. I think he's seen me in his dreams, from what he said. Gods, this sounds preposterous."

"It does, but still, who cares? Is he hot?"

"Casta, for Dust's sake!"

"So he is. And when you see him, do you get _strong emotions_?" Her mouth smirked as she looked at him.

"I—"

"Well, that settles it. Go for it, Cloves. You've never met anyone yet you really fell for, have you?"

 _No, I haven't_. Clover knew his face was about as red as a face could get.

"Will it be okay?" His voice was small.

"I don't know, you precious chump. We never know. But it's worth a shot. He could be _the one._ "

Clover stared at her hopeful face. "You deserve it, Cloves. You're a good guy."

A calmness settled in Clover's stomach. "You're such a good friend, Casta. Thank you."

"Just do it, Cloves. No procrastinating, waiting till the moment is perfect. Just do it."

"I will."

"And let me know how it goes, yeah?"

"Of course. Thanks, Casta."

❖

The following day Clover was reviewing mission reports, trying to keep up to date with what was happening. He didn't like being on the sidelines, and was looking forward to getting back to work. Despite what he'd said to Jocasta, he hadn't yet summoned the courage to contact Qrow.

His reading was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Qrow stood in the hallway. He thrust a tired-looking bunch of flowers at Clover.

"Uh, thought I should bring you these?"

Clover looked at the sad floral specimens. "Thanks. I guess?"

He raised his eyes to Qrow's blushing face.

"Look, I'm not good at this, okay? Just give me marks for effort, at least."

Clover felt his heartbeat quicken as he looked at the face of the person he'd been trying to reach, his whole life. He burst out laughing.

"They do say it's the thought that counts. Thank you, Qrow. Do you— would you like a coffee, or something?" He held the door wide.

Qrow moved past Clover, looking around him. "Nice quarters you have."

"Oh well, just standard issue for my grade, you know."

"You're a captain, right? This gets better and better."

Clover peered into several kitchen cupboards, looking for somewhere to put his flowers. He found an empty spaghetti jar and filled it with water.

"How do you mean?"

After putting the flowers in the water, he went into the living room. Qrow was sitting on the sofa, long legs stretched out across the floor.

"All this. All my life. And you're a big noise in the military. My bad luck strikes again."

Clover's forehead wrinkled. "Look, I don't have any idea about this dream partner thing. It doesn't seem to be very common. And why is it bad luck? Don't you—" He broke off, face colouring. "Don't you think we could... get on?" There was a warmth in Clover's lower abdomen as he looked at Qrow.

"Uh, yeah, in some ways I'm sure we could." Qrow looked up at Clover, the smirk on his lips replaced by a warm smile. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

Clover rubbed his clammy palms against his trousers. Gazing at the other man, he saw everything he had ever wanted, sitting on his sofa. He turned away, eyes prickling with tears. _These are Casta's_ strong emotions _. But he has doubts. I can't bear it._

There was a movement behind him. Qrow silently held out the box of tissues he'd found on the table.

"Th-thanks." Clover blew his nose noisily, and rubbed his face. "You must think I'm a complete idiot."

"Uh, not a _complete_ idiot, no." Clover saw Qrow's mouth twist into a smile. "But I guess this is all a bit much, coming after your attack the other day."

Clover thought back to what Elm had told him. "You came out of nowhere, killed the Grimm, then turned into a bird and flew off." He still couldn't quite believe it.

"Yeah, it's an... ability I was given, years ago. I do work for... various people, and it helps me get into situations that I couldn't otherwise. People don't expect birds to spy on them."

Clover's eyes widened. "That was you, watching me years ago? The bird... it was you?"

Qrow's brow furrowed. "Don't know anything about that. I've never seen you before. Only in dreams, anyway."

Clover walked across the room. His head hurt, his chest hurt, and his mind was a turmoil of thoughts. He sat down heavily on the sofa.

"This is all a bit much... my friend says _just do it_ , but I don't even know what I should be doing."

Qrow hesitated, before taking a seat. He slowly took one of Clover's hands in his. "You okay with this?" He could feel the trembling of Clover's fingers against his own.

Clover nodded dumbly. The touch of Qrow's hand was simultaneously soothing and exciting.

"I have a niece who claims to be an expert on this dream stuff. Don't ask me how. Anyway, it's a genetic thing, so your parents are the best people to ask, to help you understand it."

"I— my dad died when I was tiny. There's only my mum." Clover felt his hand squeezed a little tighter.

"That sucks, Clover, I'm sorry. I didn't know either of mine. But perhaps you could speak to your mum."

"I will." Clover moved his other hand, placing it over Qrow's. He looked sidelong at him, seeing Qrow's cheeks redden.

"There's a couple of things I _will_ say now. In case... you don't want to take it any further."

"Okay." Clover felt his body tighten, as the other took a deep breath.

"I... looked at your military record. I'm about seven years older than you. I— I was raised in a bandit tribe... as I said, I never knew my parents. I'm bi, and I've had plenty of partners over time... none that stuck, though. And my semblance is misfortune." Qrow's hand had gripped Clover's more tightly with each piece of information, so much that Clover's fingers started to tingle. He carefully extricated his hand, flexing the fingers. Feeling Qrow edge away from him, he quickly caught his hand again.

"No, it's okay... my fingers were going numb." He paused. "That's a lot of info... are you trying to put me off?"

Qrow was silent for a few moments. "No... maybe? Not that I want to, but... in the past, these things eventually come out, and then... that's when they walk away."

Clover squeezed Qrow's hand. "Well, if we're playing the truth game... actually there's not much to say. I realised I was gay when I was... fourteen, I think? Didn't do much about it until Haven... that was better, there were LGBT groups and stuff. Since joining the military, well... I've had my moments, but haven't been that busy, you know? It's not against the rules, but they like you to be discreet."

"Yeah, that's what I love about the army. So much compassion." Qrow's voice was bitter.

"No, it's okay, really. It's not just— I mean it's any sort of relationship, anything personal. You just learn how to make it work. Oh, and my semblance is good fortune, but you probably know that already."

"Yeah, that was another eye-opener."

"I try not to overuse it. It comes with... difficulties of its own."

Qrow raised his eyebrows. "Seems we have a lot to talk about, if you decide... if this—" He waved his other hand vaguely in the air. "—becomes a thing. Right then." Pulling his hand from Clover's, he took out his scroll. "Let's swap numbers, and when you've talked to your mum, if you're still interested, give me a call." He held out his scroll to Clover, who felt the tremble of Qrow's hand as he took it. He entered his details, then passed his scroll to Qrow so he could do the same.

Qrow stood up. "I'll let you get on with your recovery," he said, as he walked to the door.

"Oh gods, I never made your coffee!" Clover jumped up.

"Don't worry, I drink too much of it anyway." Qrow turned as he opened the door. "I hope— maybe I'll hear from you in a bit."

"You will." _I just want to hug him._ Clover resisted the urge, raising a hand in farewell as Qrow left.

❖

"So you're saying I get it from you?" Rosemary nodded, a small smile on her face.

"Why did you never tell me?" He felt anger stir in his chest. _All these years..._

His mother's face became serious. "There was no certainty that it would mean the same for you, Clover. I know you had dreams when you were little, but after that, you didn't mention them again. I didn't want to pry, and I never wanted to give you some kind of false hope... I'm sorry."

The anger dissipated as quickly as it had risen. "It's okay, Mum. I didn't tell you, so how could you have guessed? But, it worked out for you and Dad, right?"

Rosemary smiled. "It did. And even though we didn't have as many years as I would have wished, the time we had together was very special. And you were born, which is something I have been thankful for, every day."

Clover blinked several times. "I love you, Mum."

"And you know I love you, my precious boy. Though not so much a boy, now!" She laughed. "Clover, how do you feel about this man?"

Clover looked down at the desk. "He's... very different to me, Mum. I'm worried it might make things difficult."

"Love, that won't necessarily be a problem, as long as you have some common ground. It would be quite boring to spend your life with someone exactly like yourself, I imagine."

 _Spend my life with Qrow._ Clover couldn't visualise that, not yet.

"I've only seen him, well for real, you know, a couple of times. And it's—" he broke off, face flushing. "The feeling, it's like nothing I've had before. I don't understand."

Clover could not see the soft smile on Rosemary's face, or the way her eyes became very bright. "It seems to me, he has the potential to become someone very special in your life. If you are happy with that possibility, perhaps you should get to know him better, and see where it takes you." She rubbed at her eyes quickly. "Oh, not now, Ebony!"

A small black cat had jumped up in front of her, tail waving as she walked in front of the screen. Clover looked up, laughing. "You have no control over your cat."

"Control over any cat is an impossible task, you should know that." She picked up the cat and put her onto the floor. "Now, stay down." Rosemary looked back at the screen.

"Thanks, Mum. I will speak to Qrow. And I'll let you know how it goes."

"You do that, love. Now, before you go, I must tell you what Venetia told me the other day..."

❖

Clover and Qrow sat opposite each other, in a booth in a coffee shop not far from the barracks.

Clover wasn't sure his stomach was in the best state to receive coffee and cake. He wasn't aware of it, but Qrow was thinking the same.

"So, you got it from your mum?"

"Seems like it. She'd had dreams, which turned out to be my dad... I never knew. And I'd never told her about mine..."

Qrow rotated his mug slowly, staring at it intently. "The dreams I had... they weren't like yours, really. I just kept seeing your face, in the background, in a crowd... and then when I saw you in the medical wing— that was a shock. Not an unwelcome one, though." He looked up, smiling. "Even though you weren't looking your best, you were— well, I was glad I was there."

Clover picked a small piece from his cake, placing it in his mouth and swallowing it carefully.

"I think— I'm going to stop going over all the dream stuff. It's a bit overwhelming, thinking that my whole life... I mean, I'm more than glad we're here, you know?" He stole a quick glance at Qrow, who was watching him closely. "Whenever I think about it, I can feel— a pressure building up inside. I don't want there to be pressure on us for this to work. I want it to work because... we want it to. Because it feels right. Does that make sense?"

Qrow's mouth broke into a wide smile. "Gods, you sound amazing when you talk." He rubbed his hand through his hair. "Brothers, listen to me. What a gushing idiot."

Clover laughed. "You and me both. Pair of saps." He picked up his cake and took a large bite.

Qrow raised his coffee cup, cursing as it slipped in his fingers, spilling the hot liquid onto his lap. "Gods dammit, typical." He blotted his clothes with a wad of paper napkins.

"Does that kind of thing happen a lot?" Clover wondered whether this was how misfortune worked.

"Oh, yes. All the time. My washing machine is very busy."

Clover sat back in his seat and looked at Qrow. The tension had faded from his chest, replaced by a warm sensation which was much more pleasurable.

  


As they walked the short distance back to the barracks, Clover's scroll buzzed with a message from Jocasta. "Uh, mind if I read this quickly? It's a friend asking how I'm doing."

"Sure, go ahead."

Their steps slowed as Clover typed. Qrow stole a glance at him, enjoying the unselfconscious smile on Clover's face as he read the message. "She's wondering what you look like."

"Uh, d'you want to send a picture? You could take one of us both." They slowed to a halt, and Qrow edged behind Clover, peering round the side of his head. "Go on, before I think better of it."

Clover took a picture and sent it to Jocasta. Her reply made him laugh out loud, his cheeks flushing.

"What did she say?"

"I can't possibly tell you, you'd get ridiculously conceited."

Qrow smiled broadly. "I like your friend."

"She'd like you. Perhaps you can meet her, one day." He signed off from the message and returned the scroll to his pocket.

"Maybe I will." Qrow held a hand out to Clover, who took it firmly, their fingers interlacing. The two men looked at each other, then Clover leaned forward, his lips meeting Qrow's in a feather-light kiss. He could hear a pleased sound deep in Qrow's throat, and pressed just a little closer.

Gradually separating, the warmth between them maintaining the feeling of closeness, they resumed their slow journey back to the barracks, hands linked all the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly comments always appreciated, thank you.


End file.
